


Eight-Eyed Widow

by MacaroniSwirls (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Black Romance, F/M, hey look rarepair, typical post-game au where people are magically back to life woooooooo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-01
Updated: 2012-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-31 22:38:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/MacaroniSwirls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk and Vriska go out and experience the sheer wonder of black romance on what is accurately descibed as 'wow this date is lacking in any class whatsoever.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eight-Eyed Widow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mintly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mintly/gifts).



There’s a certain type of anger one feels towards oneself, and its’ the anger where you decide it’s just a better idea to ignore and that you should just stuff it in some long forgotten cubby hole. Nope, you don’t have any problems, what are problems, they’re all buried in that sandbox over there. No one is ever going to find them.

Let’s say the game is over. Sure, it technically is, but it’s not over in any of the ways that matter. You know you’ve personally seen like five people wake up in the middle of the night, cold sweat and wide eyes and bad memories on the face. You’ve also seen five people dead – at least, five of the people that mattered dead. Counting enemies and carapaces, the number gets exponential.

Now let’s say the game is not over, because it isn’t, it’s simply been replaced by a new game, one with a wider selection of characters and one with a lot more frustration.

You know how in video games there’s always that overpowered character that’s loved by all the new faces but anyone with experience knows that only idiots would use them in a fair battle?

That’s Vriska Serket. And the only difference between her and a video game character is that, well, she actually exists. The very statement of her existence kind of rattles your bones.

You’re aren’t sure why, but she’s laying on your couch right now, and the thing that confuses you even more is that you had the idiocy to invite her.

“Coooooooome on Dirk, we need to get going. Dusk is the perfect time for what I got planned for tonight.” She’s sprawled out over the cushions. And she didn’t elongate the come enough for there to be eight Os, but you know that she imagined it in her heard – actually, you’re sure of it. And she’s wearing shorts, and sure, some of your other friends wear shorts in the ass-end of fall when it’s 20 degrees Fahrenheit out, but Vriska doing it makes you want to punch her in the face. She’s just so smug about it, is all. You can practically hear her inner laughter that you have to wear a hearty pair of sweatpants in order to be halfway comfortable in the current temperature.

However, that isn’t to say that she just necessarily looks bad in those shorts. Part of your stomach drops a bit whenever you think something like this, but you try to ignore it.

“Calm down, spiderbitch-“

“Wow, I’ve never heard that one before. I bet you had to finger every nook in your little thinkpan before coming up with that one. I’m so glad to be wasting my time on someone as creative as you.” She’s rolling all eight eyes at you.

“As great as innovation is, sometimes things stay a classic for a reason. You’re a disgusting spider that is just a few steps from being away from a female dog, so I think the term is pretty accurate.”

She cackles a bit. “Bambi would be good for you, then. You’ve got those dainty little limbs, and your father is dead!” While Vriska has at least a decent grasp of tact around other people, it was all basically thrown out the window whenever she talked to Dirk.

“Brother. It’s my brother that’s dead.” The phrase leaves a cold lump at the back of your throat, but you ignore it as there are more important things that should be doing. Like your current date. You aren’t sure if you quite consider it a date yet, but you know she does, and it’s always fun to humor trolls in their cultural rituals. You never know, it might turn into something nice. “Okay Serket, I’m ready, let’s go.”

“About time. And father, brother, whatever, I don’t really care enough to have your human relations memorized. They all seem pretty stupid in the end. We all came from the same batch of ectoslime anyway, I’d say we’re all cousins. Isn’t that right, cuz?” And as she says the last word, she whispers it in your ear, putting a deep guttural meaning in it that makes it sound almost dirty. Going into the crisp autumn air should’ve been nice, but just that atmosphere she can create can make it feel like choking.

“Do you really have to say immature things like that? Take an example from me and put a bit of class and distincting into your immature metaphors.”

“Castrate yourself and shove your dick in your mouth.”

“Aw, much better.”

Vriska enjoyed the human ideas of cussing, because it meant she could throw the words around like confetti and watch people’s reactions to them.

“Okay so Dirk, I know this might be a bit of struggle for a wimpy little fleshbag-“

“Cliché phrase.”

“Wow, do I look like I care? Anyway, the destination is only about two streets away right now.”

Dirk was caught a bit off-guard by this, since they’d only gone a distance of about one block so far. And either way, this didn’t seem like the hate-date type of place. Dirk had somehow ended up in a small house in an old-lady neighborhood, filled with old-lady things like parks and churches and perfume shops. While Dirk too no particularly pleasure in the listed things, he didn’t particularly hate them.

“So where are you going? The local retirement center?”

“No, idiot, I actually take people to cool places on dates. Tonight, we’re going to a creek.”

“Never thought of you as the nature type.”

“Never thought of you as the cool type, and hey! It turns out you weren’t! You’re lame and despicable and dumb and that’s exactly why I hate you.”

You roll your eyes. This isn’t the first time you’re rolled them tonight, and you’ve certainly seen her roll hers several times. It’s hard to not roll eyes when the two of you are just throwing away bad banter. “That’s nice to know. So, anyways, is it a special creek?”

“No, it’s just a creek.”

“Hmm.”

“Now how am I supposed to respond to that? Hmmmmmmmm is such a lame response.”

“Hmmm.”

“I bet you used eight Ms in that.”

“We both seem to interpret the poetic meter of my hmms, differently, then.” You’re pretty sure that’s not what poetic meter refers to, but it’s still a decent enough comeback. “Anyways, there’s a creek in front of me now and it’s muddy and a general piece of shit. I’m guessing this is it?”

“Yes!”

The creek is a creek in the way that a toilet is an ocean. It isn’t.

“That’s a little trickle of water caused by a small leak in a water pipe. You can see where the metal breaks over there.” Indeed, it’s a dumpy little place. You can see the rusty pipe pushing out of the dirt, probably revealed by a mudslide that occurred hear a couple years back. Water is leaking wearily out of it, and it doesn’t so much create a river as much as it looks like a few kids left the hose on in the front yard. “Why haven’t they patched it up yet?”

“It broke like two days okay! The repair people are only coming tomorrow. You get to see the last dying moments of this natural phenomenon, isn’t it great?” Whenever she says great, you can see the subtle difference that actually makes it greight, and it doesn’t surprise you in the least.

“Sure.”

You’re focusing less on the conversation, now, and more on the wildly manic grin that now graces her face. It’s the type of grin that makes you think there’s something wrong with her mentally, no matter how much better everyone says she has become. You knew her after this supposed improvement, and as a result, you can’t really appreciate her special brand of sanity by comparing it to her former special brand of insanity. 

"So Vriska, what's going to happen tonight? I want to know how you're going to try to kill me tonight."

"Shh, just watch a moment. You'll see one soon."

You watch a moment, and it's just a normal park in autumn. Leaves, bugs, bare branches, nothing good or exciting or exceptionally Vriska.

"The fireflies. You're missing out on the fireflies, you idiot." And the look on her face is so serious, and you feel like you're missing something important, so you continue watching the park a moment, trying to decipher some hidden meaning.

The fireflies blink on and off. Some are sitting on the floor, the female fireflies waggling their butts in the air and trying to get a male firefly to notice them. The males are up in the air, just blinking on and off like stars.

"Okay, Vriska, what am I missing?"

"They were the citizens of John's world, stupid. They were trapped by the clouds." Her face is dead serious now, just looking at them, blinking at odd intervals. 

"It's bad to talk about another man on a date."

You recount to yourself everything you know about John. You'd never met him firsthand, personally, because he had been dead when you'd met him. Not god-tier dead, about to come back to life, but plain old dead dead. He'd died fighting some demon, though you had never gotten a chance to find out what happened with that. The beta kids tend to keep a lot of things quiet.

Vriska stares a moment. "I never got to meet him, you know, because he had to go and die a stupid death for your idiots." Vriska isn't as fiery anymore, and there now appears to be a coldness about her. "The time your friendleader bought me back to life, most of the people left to hang out with were a bunch of dumb alternate versions."

"Well, I suggest you get the fuck over it." The nice thing about kismesis is that all empathy can be thrown out the window.

It's when she snarls and drags a clawed hand against your shoulder that you think that you do, indeed, enjoy the magic of troll quadrants.


End file.
